Welcome to Castle Cove: A Design Your Destiny Novel

by Kory M. Shrum

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  The man—or whatever he is—seems uninterested or unable to leave the surf. But it doesn’t matter. I’m more than ready to leave.

  In fact, I can’t seem to climb the cliffs fast enough. And no matter how badly my legs shake and burn from the climb, I don’t stop until my hands touch the warm hood of Spencer’s car.

  Then I’m throwing open the passenger door and climbing inside.

  I snatch the earmuffs off my head, letting them hang around my neck. “What the hell was that?”

  My voice is deafening after so much silence.

  “A siren,” he says.

  “What the—”

  “They guard the cove,” he says, chest heaving. He can’t take in air fast enough. Neither of us can. “They make sure ships, boats, whatever don’t find their way to Castle Cove uninvited. They serve Vendetta like everything else in this town.”

  “You just said a whole bunch of shit I don’t understand.”

  He runs his hand through his hair. “But you saw it, right? You understand that it isn’t human?”

  “I’m not blind!”

  “I’m sorry. I just ask because you’ll never understand—let alone believe the rest of it—if you don’t understand that it isn’t human.” His eyes are wide and feverish in the dark.

  We are both fogging up the car windows with our rapid breath.

  “It wasn’t human,” I agree. “But that doesn’t mean I understand what the hell just happened.”

  He falls back against the seat as if greatly relieved by the news. As if he was jumping invisible hurdles I’m unaware of.

  He licks his lips. “Sirens are just one of the creatures that live in Castle Cove. You’ve heard of vampires, werewolves, shifters.”

  “So?”

  “They’re real. And they’re here.” He slaps his dash.

  I fall back against my seat and try to understand this. Part of my mind rebukes it, rejects it. Vampires aren’t real. Werewolves? No way.

  But then I think of that piranha-faced fish man down there, and the strange song that had entranced me.

  “What was going to happen to me if that siren—”

  “He would’ve raped you.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Spencer averts his eyes. “Your bare feet in the surf at night. That’s what draws them. Sometimes it draws more than one, actually. The song creates a kind of glamour, showing you the sort of man you’re attracted to. And the song itself works as this bizarre seduction tool.”

  I remember that pull that had tugged through my abdomen, urging me forward. It called to me.

  “I saw lights in the water,” I say. “Like those algae that light up.”

  “It was shifting form. So he could…” Spencer lets his voice trail.

  “So sirens can just grow a…” I can’t bring myself to say dick in the dark of Spencer’s car. Penis is even weirder. I look out over the dark cliffs at the luminous moon. “…legs.”

  “There are festivals where men and women volunteer to come down to the surf and be…taken by the sirens. It’s part of the treaty in exchange for their protection of Castle Cove.”

  “Why in the world would someone volunteer for that?”

  “They say the experience is…” His face colors. “Well, they say it’s worth it, the ones who live.”

  “The ones who live?”

  “Sometimes they drown in the surf,” he says. “Because the sirens can’t really leave the water and they don’t seem to understand how humans breathe.”

  I try to imagine all this. A strange festival where men and women come down the cliffs and put their bare feet in the surf. Where strange, beautiful creatures—to the entranced eye, at least—emerge from the ocean, ready and willing. And a town that just…what? Watches?

  “Are you telling me everyone in this town is a monster?”

  “No,” he says, fiddling with the heat. He puts my coffee in my hands, reminding me that it exists. “I’d say that about seventy percent are one thing or another—vampire, werewolf, whatever. And trust me there are plenty of things that you haven’t heard up.”

  “Like?” As soon as I ask, I wonder if I’ll regret it.

  “I heard there’s a tree in the Wayward Woods, miles beyond the West Territory Line, called the crone tree. It’s supposed to be a sort of living goddess and the source of Vendetta’s power. There’s all kinds of shit in the Wayward Woods. The scariest shit is beyond the West Territory Line.”

  He points toward the woods up ahead, those closest to the Heights.

  “I wouldn’t go in there.”

  “Noted. Who is Vendetta?”

  “They talk about her like she’s a god. And maybe she is. But it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s just superstition.”

  “Try me.”

  “They say she was human once, thousands of years ago. That she murdered some queen in revenge, but she had to sell her soul to an ancient goddess for the power to pull it off. The castle ruins are supposed to be what’s left of the queen’s castle, from all those centuries ago.”

  “Doesn’t explain why so many…” I search for the word. “Creatures come here.”

  “They call her the Mother of Darkness. Every creature that exists is supposed to have come from her power. That she made the first of each.”

  I try to imagine such a terrifying woman.

  “So Vendetta is some kind of goddess they worship. More powerful than any of them.”

  “Yes.”

  “The origin of werewolves and vampires and whatever else lives in the dark.”

  “Right.”

  I snort. “And she’s just walking around town?”

  “She’s here, but no one knows where. Ethan guards her.”

  Which of course begs a question. “And what is he?”

  “A demon from hell?” he says with a shrug. “I don’t pretend to know everything about this town. Maybe even Ethan himself doesn’t know all its secrets, though it’s said he’s the one who has served her longest.”

  It’s so hard to believe. So much to take in.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I ask.

  “Because I want you to know what you’ve walked into. Humans who end up in Castle Cove unaware of the danger don’t last long. I should know.”

  It’s the first time that I consider maybe he isn’t even human.

  “I’m human,” he says as if reading my mind. “And so was my sister when we came here.”

  Was.

  “What happened to her?” My voice is barely audible over the heat pumping through the car’s vents.

  “She disappeared off the lake trail one evening about two weeks after we moved to Castle Cove. I was stupid enough to believe that this was going to be a fresh start for us. We’d both gotten accepted into Castle Cove University—a school neither of us remembered applying to, with complete financial aid packages no less. It must’ve seemed as convenient as the job ad you saw for B & B.”

  I feel like we are falling into new territory here. More things I don’t understand.

  “You can only find Castle Cove if you’re invited,” he says. “Any local in town can tell you that. But what they won’t tell you is that not everyone is invited for the same reason. Some are invited to live here and be amongst their own kind. But others are invited for dinner.”

  I try to grasp the notion that maybe I was lured into this town as a snack for one of its inhabitants. That siren in the surf? Some werewolf in the woods?

  “And those guys in the bar, what were they?” I ask.

  “Vampires. She’s as good as dead.”

  “Why would you stay then?” I ask. “If you’re human and it’s so dangerous.”

  “I’m not leaving until I get justice for Stephanie. Either I find her killer and destroy it. Or I die trying.”

  The anger sparking in his eyes frightens the hell out of me. But the picture of the man I’d been dodging all week finally come
s into view. The pain. The resentment and suspicion.

  “So what will you do?” he asks. “Are you going to stay or are you going to leave town?”

  It’s an excellent question. Do I want to stay in Castle Cove knowing what I know now?”

  Choice 46

  Leave town while I still can

  I want to see more

  I want to see more

  “I want to see more,” I tell him. “Finish the tour.”

  He gives me a knowing, half-smile. “It’s hard to leave once you know the truth. I won’t hold it against you.”

  I sip my lukewarm coffee as Spencer pulls onto Canyon Road.

  He takes me up the dark street toward Vendetta Heights. He pauses at a bar on the edge of town. It’s like an old-timey saloon with a great red sign reading The Crossroads. The wooden porch and overhang. The large wooden doors. The swell of music trailing out into the night, not unlike that haunting siren song.

  “A demon bar,” Spencer explains, his car idling in the gravel lot. “You can trade your soul for just about anything in there. But I don’t recommend it.”

  I try to imagine this bar on the edge of town full of actual demons…and how desperate a human must be to go in there.

  Further up the road, we crest a hill and find the large plain connecting the cliffs to the woods. A few cars sit shadowed in the field, others parked in the pull-offs.

  “Vendetta Heights is a place where vampire lovers come for privacy,” he explains. “There’s plenty of back rooms in the bars, but a lot of them prefer this feeding ground. They bring their ‘dates’ up here or they prey on some of the kids making out. There are actually kids who hang around up here just hoping to be approached by a vampire.”

  “They’re much braver than I am,” I murmur.

  “Stupider,” Spencer counters.

  Back in town I get a closer look at the Red Light district. Spencer points out vampire bar after vampire bar. A succubus brothel. A shifter club with a reputation for the best drag show in town.

  He pulls a U-turn in the parking lot at the end of the street. “Some bars stick to their own species. Others offer a mixed crowd. Alpha’s is a werewolf bar, but it’s known as mixed because of its reputation for being one of the safer places for humans. It doesn’t get as rowdy there and near the full moon they close it down, so it doesn’t get out of hand. But the howling you hear north of Cliffside is just unbearable. You’re lucky you got an apartment in Old Town. That’s about as far from the frenzy as you can get.”

  And here I was a little annoyed by the ocean waves.

  Spencer goes on to point out a witches’ temple in north Cliffside.

  When he finally pulls up outside my apartment at nearly three in the morning, he locks the door before I can hop out.

  Here we go, I think. This is where I see the fangs.

  But he starts talking. No fangs.

  “I’m going to have to trust you not to tell anyone about my plans for revenge,” Spencer says. “I don’t even know who is responsible yet, but when I find out—”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Unfortunately, it isn’t,” he says. “People in this town read minds. I’m going to need you to forget everything except what I told you about the town.”

  I frown at him.

  “There’s a bookshop here in Old Town that specializes in certain items you wouldn’t find in any old bookshop. Most outsiders mistake it for a New Age-y place because of all the crystals and tarot cards. But Siobhan is so much more than a shopkeeper.”

  Spencer reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of dust. It glitters in the light. And I have just a moment to marvel at its beauty before he blows it into my face.

  The car disappears. The heat. The moonlight. It’s gone in a haze of golden glitter.

  “Katie ditched you at the bar to leave with those guys. You didn’t have a ride, and I offered to bring you home. We took a drive on Canyon Road and saw the siren. Then I showed you around town. You’ll remember everything I told you about the town and the dangerous spots. I just wanted to apologize for how I acted this week.”

  “It’s okay. We’re all jerks sometimes.”

  “God, I love this stuff. I must’ve used it a dozen times on people I’ve interviewed so far. Shit, I’m babbling. It’s late, and I hear that you have to meet with Benedict tomorrow. Go ahead and go up to bed.”

  Bed suddenly sounds perfect. I can’t remember what Spencer and I were talking about just now, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He’s opening the passenger door and leading me up to the door.

  He says goodnight and leaves me on the welcome mat outside my apartment door. I don’t even remember getting into my pajamas, brushing my teeth, or falling into bed.

  But when I wake, there’s a lot of strange gold glitter on my pillow. And it’s nearly two in the afternoon. I’m trying to remember if this happened at the bar or after.

  I sit up and Sushi begins his chorus of desperate mewling pleas for food.

  “Okay, okay,” I say and throw back the covers. He’s already jumped off the bed and is galloping down the hall. He leaps up onto the island barstool and then the countertop before I can get the plastic container of his food down off the fridge.

  Only a small circle of the bowl is exposed—of course—but I give him his full scoop anyway. I’ve learned that simply shaking the bowl to cover the patch sends him into hysterics.

  While the cat crunches down his kibble, I stand in the kitchen trying to adjust to the idea of a new day. There was something…

  Spencer.

  Right. He offered to take me home after Katie ditched me at the bar with those guys. We had a nice drive, a good chat about how weird this town is, and he brought me home. I guess I’m grateful that he clarified a lot for me last night. Except, of course, now I’m more nervous than ever to meet Ethan Benedict.

  What is he really? A vampire? A werewolf? A demon bent on eating my soul?

  I worry about Katie and whether or not she made it home okay. I decide to call her.

  The call goes straight to her voicemail. Damn. I leave a message anyway, probably sounding like a hand-wringing mother.

  I could drive by the parking garage and see if her car is still there, or if she came back to get it. Or I can go by her place and knock on the door.

  Choice 47

  Go by Katie’s apartment

  Go by Alpha’s

  Leave tonight.

  When I watch scary movies, I’m always yelling at the screen, telling the women not to go into the dark house when the front door opens on its own. Not to go into the basement when the light won’t turn on.

  And it feels like that now. If I stay in this place, it’ll be like staying in the house I know is haunted and wondering why I ended up dead.

  Nope.

  Once I get home, it takes me thirty minutes to shove all my clothes and electronics into a bag. I resolve to hire a shipping company to come get the rest and send it to my mother’s house in Maryland. I only take the things I’d be sad to lose. It takes me nearly five minutes to find Sushi, but once I offer him the cat carrier—which he usually detests—he seems all too willing to get in.

  Maybe he’s known this place was dangerous all along. Cats are smart about these things.

  After adjusting my belongings in the backseat and trunk, I climb into my car, feeling the weight of the silent street around me.

  In the rearview mirror, I see light spilling from my apartment, illuminating the balcony. I consider going back to turn it off, until I see the light click off.

  By itself.

  I push my foot down on the gas and speed out of Old Town. I follow Midnight Pass, the long road leading up through the canyon along the ridge overlooking the cove. The sea shines like diamonds in the moonlight. Then I’m on Canyon Road again with a straight shot to the interstate.

  If I strain, I see shadows moving on the beach below. Nighttime bathers, sirens…or something else, enjoying the wave
s and moonlight.

  Once I’m on the uppermost part of the ridge, with the castle ruins framed in the rearview mirror, something flashes in the road.

  A girl glows in my headlights. Her eyes, black as river water, are wide and frightened. The side of her neck is torn open. The front of her clothes are drenched in blood.

  I slam on my breaks, screaming.

  It’s Katie. I’m going to hit Katie, I think.

  But when the car stops, she isn’t there. I look in the rearview mirror and she isn’t behind me. Nor do I see her through any of the windows.

  I get out and walk around the car.

  Hell, I get on my hands and knees on the pavement and look under my running car.

  Nothing.

  I’m losing my damn mind. I must’ve imagined seeing Katie—Katie’s ghost is more like it—walking down the middle of this dark, deserted road.

  A howl breaks open the night, carried on a soft breeze. It smells of salt water and the lush forest stretching behind the ruined castle. I hear another howl from those trees, forming a chorus with the first. Both now closer.

  Sushi meows from inside the car, breaking the trance the night has on me.

  I climb back in and speed off.

  Without much thought, I make it to the interstate. I pull into traffic and I don’t look back.

  Sometimes my mother asks what happened in Castle Cove. I simply tell her that it wasn’t a good fit. She makes her own assumptions about crime, probably wondering if a man was involved. I never elaborate.

  But sometimes when I wake in the night, cold and shivering—I can hear those waves crashing against the cove’s rocks, and I see a girl walking the road, alone, calling out to anyone who will listen.

  The End

  Create a new story

  Go by Alpha’s

  There’s quite a bit of congestion as I pass the Old Town Plaza. Vendors with their vegetable carts and food trucks create a semi-circle around the center statue, featuring some founding father from decades ago.